As it slips through your fingers
by SlyAndCrafty
Summary: Grief changes people, even the Savior. Draco knows that staying doesn't help, it only hurting them both. 6 years after DH. Established relationship. Angst. Rated for future smut. Please R&R, first time writing.
1. Prologue

__Hey, it's my first time writing a fanfic, unbeta'd, please don't be too harsh.

Please read and review!

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><p><em>Prologue<em>

_A man staggered down the dark street, the flickering street lamps not providing much light. He squinted into the distance, eyes blurry from his activities. He raised his hand to clear them, and was shocked when he hit something that separated his eyes from his fingers. Realizing they were glasses, he broke down into a fit of giggles, the sound echoing in the stark silence that surrounded the neighbourhood. He slumped to the ground, unable to support himself._

_A couple doors ahead, a door opened and a man exited. Catching sight of the laughing man sprawled on the ground, he quickened his pace until he reached the other. The previous laughing man let his laughter die out, the chuckles turning into sobs and hiccups. He peered up through the dark strands obscuring his eyes, and stared blearily up at the person in front of him. He cocked his head in confusion, the image of two men swimming in front of him. He blinked, trying to focus, but it didn't help._

_Through his hazy vision he could see a blonde head of hair, the street light flaring out behind him, illuminating the outline of the blonde man but throwing his face in shadows. "Wooooo arhhh youz?" asked the dark haired man, his words coming out slurred. The blonde man stood still for a moment, before crouching down and answering, "Nobody. Come on Harry. Let's go home."_


	2. Clockwork

Chapter 1

**Clockwork**

Draco sighed, leaning against the wall. It was a Friday night, which meant that it would happen again, like it did every Friday for months; Harry would stumble home drunk, Draco would try to carry him back home, and he'd then put him in bed. It never failed to happen, and Draco would stay up for hours later, nursing several cups of tea in an attempt to keep his mind off the situation.

_Situation_. What a misleading way to label the way things had been going. 'Situation' sounded manageable, and there may have been a time when he felt it was, but those days were long gone.

Pulling out a tin from the cupboard, Draco put a pot of water on to the stove, avoiding the kettle due to the way it screeched when the water boiled. He leaned against the counter, eyes flicking to the clock. Any minute now…

The sound of someone stepping through the floo sounded from the other room, and Draco pulled down another cup from the cupboard. Draco raised his head and met Hermione's questioning look with one of affirmation. _Like clockwork_. She made her way to the table, pulling out a chair, the scrape of the feet against the floor a welcome reprieve from the ticking of the clock.

Draco turned off the stove at the sound of boiling water, and carefully poured some into the two cups. He carried the two cups to the kitchen table, and also set down the tin, inviting Hermione to spoon out the tea leaves.

"It won't be for much longer. He just needs support," said Hermione. Draco didn't answer, choosing to keep his negative thoughts to himself. 'Not much longer' had been going on for what felt like a _very_ long time, and he didn't think he held the same optimistic view on the issue as he once did. A short laugh escaped him, and even he could hear the disbelief that he no longer had the energy to conceal.

She looked at him sadly, "It won't. He just needs some more help, needs more visits to the mind healers, and he'll be fine. We'll have our Harry back before we know it!" she attempted to sound encouraging, and Draco idly wondered if she actually believed what she said.

Draco sighed. He had heard the same words countless times, words that promised change and happiness. "I don't think he'll be fine. It's been months, and nothing's changed. Face it, Granger: He won't change."

"You don't know that!" she shouted. Draco, sick of her determination to see the best in people, finally said what he'd been thinking for the past couple weeks, "I do! I've been living with him for a little over a year, and I was with him when the attack happened. I know that every Friday for the past 5 months he's come home drunk and wasted, and when I beg him to go to Mungo's on Sundays he yells and throws that vase and storms out and he doesn't come back until Monday. You come here once a week, but you aren't here for the rest of it! So don't you sit there saying that things will change and Harry will be back. It won't and he won't. He's been gone for months, and we're both still waiting for him to return. You know it, you just won't admit it. Well I know, and I'll admit it: Harry's gone and he's not coming back."

Taken aback by Draco's defeated tone, Hermione protested, "You don't know that!"

"I know more than you ever will!"

Draco panted, his face flushed from yelling. He tipped his head back, and his next words were barely a whisper, the volume a drastic change from the screaming before, "I don't know if I can stay here much longer. I don't know if I can keep on waiting for someone who's not coming back." He finally let out the words he'd been thinking for weeks, contemplated and shoved into the furthest corner of his mind. He had been determined not to give up, not to take the coward's way out, but he couldn't find the energy to do so. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he furiously rubbed them away, ashamed at the sign of weakness.

"Oh Draco." Hermione got out of her seat and wrapped her arms around Draco, who promptly started sobbing into her shoulder. His broken cries and snippets of words were muffled into her robe, and she stood there, holding him for what could've been mere minutes but which felt like an eternity. Slowly, the agitated sobs of the man in her arms died out, and she was left with a red faced Draco Malfoy. He wrapped his fingers around his mug, looking down into the tea without seeing it.

"I don't think I can take it anymore. I love him, but he's not coming back. Not the Harry I knew. The Harry I knew was romantic and reckless and sweet and wonderfully Gryffindorish. This Harry's cruel and angry and drunk and he doesn't care anymore. Harry used to make breakfast when he came home late, but these days he just works until dawn and sleeps at his office. And I'm so tired, Hermione. I'm tired of going to sleep alone and waking up in an empty bed. I'm tired of yelling and screaming and repairing vases and being lonely." He felt tears well up in his eyes again, but he scrunched his eyes shut and continued talking. "Some days I wish he had died in the attack. Some days I wish the spell had hit him because as terrible as it sounds, it'd be easier if he was dead. If he was dead, we'd have a funeral, I'd grieve and I'd visit his grave. But the point is that I would've been okay, because I'd know that I loved him as much as I could while he was alive, and that I still love him after he's gone. But the thing is that he didn't die; He survived and he's making me hate him. I don't want to become bitter and angry and hateful because that's not the way I want to think of Harry. I want to think of him fondly, and if I stay any longer, I'll begin to hate him."

Hermione didn't say anything, at a loss for words. As much as it pained her, she couldn't help but agree with Draco's speech. She felt as if she were betraying Harry by agreeing, like there was something more she could do to convince Draco, but she could see how hard it was for him. If R- If she were in his shoes, she'd probably feel the same. Hell, she probably would've left awhile ago to be honest, never one to hold on to painful things.

"When will you go?" she said after a long silence.

Draco looked up from his cup. "Morning. I'll pack up tonight and talk to him tomorrow. I'll stay at the Leaky or something. All I know is that I can't stay another day."

She didn't say anything. She felt torn between her long time best friend and someone she had come to think of as her best friend. On one hand, she knew that this couldn't go on; there was only so much one could go through and Draco had stayed longer than most would have. On the other hand, she felt like a traitor, as though by not convincing him to stay, she'd be betraying Harry. She felt like when he got the all the help he needed and started getting back to himself, he'd resent her for being not trying harder to keep the love of his life here; because if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Draco was the love of Harry's life, and Harry the love of Draco's, and they could survive this rough patch.

"I'll owl you once I find a place. I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry that you'll have to deal with this on your own, I really am. If you ever need me, don't hesitate to floo or owl."

Hermione made her way to the living room, Draco trailing behind her. As she stepped into the fireplace, she turned around and truly _looked_ at Draco. He was a sight, eyes red and puffy, skin sallow from lack of sleep and accented by the dark rings under his eyes. She looked at him, at what had become of Draco, and she knew she was doing the right thing in letting him leave. "I'll help you move into your new place, you already know how to reach me. And Draco," she added as she saw him turn away, expecting her to have left, "I don't blame you, and neither would Harry. He'd want you to be happy." And with those parting words, she threw down the handful of floo power, and then disappeared in a flash of green flames.

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><p>Read and review please!<p>

I'm planning to update every second wednesday, so 2 weeks from now!


	3. Wake up call

I think I promised to update every second Wednesday, but something I've accepted a long time ago is that I'm an atrocious liar.

I've made my peace with my faults.

So to make up for the lack of promised chapters, I'm posting the next chapter tomorrow, and the one after that next wednesday.

Read on!

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

**Wake up Call**

Harry woke to the sound of knocking. He opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming from the window. He motioned his hand towards the curtain, and they shut, throwing the room into darkness. Harry closed his eyes against the throbbing of his head. Just as he was about to go back to sleep, he heard knocking on the door again.

Disgruntled, Harry called out, his voice scratchy and throat raw, "Leave me alone!".

As he turned his head back into the pillow, the door flung open, and in stormed one angry Draco Malfoy. "Listen up Potter, and then you can be alone all you like!"

It was the use of his last name rather than the way it was said that caused him to look up; they hadn't used last names since the days they had first started dating.

"I have tried being patient with you but I'm sick and tired of your attitude! I get it, okay? I get that you feel like what happened was your fault, and you're making yourself miserable because you think you deserve it. But you're making me miserable too! And I can't just sit here and wait for you to break it off! Sometimes I wonder if he was really just your friend, because you seem to miss him a hell of a lot more then you miss me"

Harry jumped out of bed, ignoring the way his head throbbed in protest of the sudden movement. "It's not like that! He was my best mate and it was my fault! It'd different, it's not like you're dead. No, you're still here and alive and he's not so just bugger off!" He couldn't understand why Draco was saying these things, when he knew it was a touchy subject.

"I may be alive, but it's not like it means very much to you. Do you even love me anymore?"

"I do Draco. Of course I do. Now can we have this conversation later becau-"

"No, because we'll never talk if we leave this for later. We haven't had one conversation where we weren't yelling or you were wasted! I'm sick and tired of this shit, and it's going to end now," Draco interrupted.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, confused by the words Draco was saying; He had assumed this was another attempt to get him to go to St. Mungos.

"I'm talking about this. Wandering home drunk and sleeping at work. Somehow you've got the notion in your head that I'll put up with you like this- I did. But not any longer. I'm leaving, Harry. I just thought we should try talking one last time. I don't know who I was trying to fool into thinking we could. You're a selfish bastard, Potter, and I might as well not be here if you don't care."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, about how he did care, about how he just needed some time, but was interrupted by Draco, who seemed too worked up to let Harry say anything.

"When was the last time we held each other as we fell asleep? When was the last time we even slept in the same room? What happened to going out for dinner, or even just eating in? Or even eating together? I-I thought that you needed space, so I gave you it. I gave you time to grieve, but I'm tired and I'm lonely. Being with you just makes me feel more alone and I can't do it anymore."

Harry stood, frozen. He honestly couldn't recall doing any of the things Draco spoke of, or at least not recently. He felt a foreign feeling settle in his stomach, something he hadn't felt in a long time: Dread. "Draco, don't go. We can get through this, I'll go talk to someone, just don't leave, not like this" he pleaded, not being able to fully grasp the situation but understanding enough to realize that Draco was going to leave and not come back.

Draco looked at him with a blank expression, as he backed out of the room. "You've been telling me to leave you alone for months. You're finally getting what you wanted" Draco turned around, and walked out the door.

Harry stood there, still in his shock. He distantly heard the sound of the floo, and wondered when Draco would be back to take his things. Harry's eyes widened in realization, and he promptly ran out of the room and into another, the one he used to think of as _theirs_. That room had belonged to another Harry of another time, and he realized he hadn't set foot inside for a long time. He tore open the door, and ran to the closet, yanking the door open. What he saw, or the lack of such, made him stand still. There were some of his old clothes, sweaters and shirts hanging on the left. On the right, where Draco's clothes used to be -_should've been- _were a bunch of hangers, empty.

He whirled around, and his eyes swept the room in a panicked frenzy. He vaguely noticed that the room was neat and clean, despite his absence. At the moment, the only thing his mind could process were the things that were missing: The silver box which held Draco's pensieve, a framed picture of Harry and Draco sitting in a tree, the Slytherin banner that hung next to his Gryffindor one, the violin that Draco swore he could play but never did, the thick tomes that filled the bookshelf, and the leather bag Harry had bought for Draco, just find that Draco had bought him the same one in a different colour.

He stood there, staring blankly at where the picture of them had once hung, when a glint of metal caught his eye. Taking a step towards the bed, he cautiously reached down and picked up a small ornate box. Slowly lifting the lid, a sob caught in his throat as he laid his eyes on the pair of gold and silver rings sitting on a cushion. His head reeling from the silent implications of the box, he took a step back, and promptly broke down. Sliding down the wall, he cradled the box and it's contents in his hands, as tears ran down his face and his cries rose.

He had something so precious, and had let it slip through his fingers.

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><p>Please read and review!<p> 


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